


Behind the Glass We See

by earthtorebecca



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Lots of it, Mutual Pining, Mystery, POV First Person, Swearing, Will add more as I go, action-packed fun filled with heartbreak and discovery, also lots of it, goes beyond story's ending, includes some spoilers from v's route, mc is kind of a mouthy hoe, rika sucks pass it on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-07 16:56:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12236943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthtorebecca/pseuds/earthtorebecca
Summary: Strange things have happened in MC's life, but nothing as strange as accepting an impromptu invitation to join a high-class charity organization because a dangerous hacker led her to a classified apartment where she must protect herself and the apartment's information at all costs.*This story follows Mystic Messenger's Deep Story fairly verbatim, except there will be quite a few of adjustments made so I can expound upon the characters and thicken the plot. I will try to remain as canon as possible with the characters (of course with some headcanons in mind( ͡º ͜ʖ ͡º)) but some characters may appear non-canon at times since I don't want to copy and paste everything from the game. I find it repetitive and boring so I will use my creative license to the best of my ability!!!





	1. Chapter 1

‘Life works in mysterious ways’

 

That’s what Mom told me when we lost my favorite dog, Mico.

 

He was a bit wild and got distracted easily. Lizards, squirrels, faint booms of fireworks, the neighbors’ lawnmowers grumbling along their yards- they all riled him up. So, when we called out to him one dry summer afternoon and didn’t hear the clumsy thumps of his paws bounding our way, it came as no surprise. Well, thinking back on it now it doesn’t; but I certainly didn’t think so at the time.

 

I found out when I was waiting patiently in the playroom, bouncing in butterfly-position on the ground and ready to spend an action-packed afternoon of a hopeless game of tug-o-war (he was literally the size of my five-year-old body) and cuddling up on his soft, fluffy belly in a mountain of pillows.

 

But when I saw Mom walk in, her round face twisted with worry, talking heatedly with Mrs. Rosales over the phone- I felt something strange crack in my chest. I called out to her, asking about the crazy Tasmanian devil of a thing, but she waved me off and busied herself with the stacks of paper consuming the small desk she kept in the corner. Impatient and mildly offended, I ran to the backdoor, yanked it open, and tried to whistle (it sounded more like a dry raspberry) to get Mico’s attention.

 

Nothing.

 

I tried again, and again, and again until Mom hastily pulled me in and nearly collapsed right then and there.

 

“Mico ran away. The neighbors are keeping an eye out for him and I called pet services. I’m going to drop you off at Ms. Rosales-”

 

“No! I find Mico!” I spewed out, my little heart racing and little legs racing even faster as I ran to get my shoes. Mom yelled really loudly for me to listen to her, but all I could hear was white noise and the dull, rapid thumps of my heart.

 

Of course, I was no match for the steely 5’6 woman who birthed me, so I spent the next few hours bawling on Ms. Rosales’ kitchen floor while she filled the kitchen with the warm, toasty scent of homemade tortillas and a sweet lullaby that sounded vaguely like the ‘I Love You’ song from Barney mashed up with ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star’. Eventually, it worked, and the sweet old lady had to call down her youngest son, Edward, to haul me back home.

 

-

 

 

 

Mico was never found.

 

Days, even months, passed where I didn’t spend a day without crying. Mico was my first and very best friend. He was there when Mom had to work late nights bolted up in her at-home office, and even when Dad up and left for some chick he met at the 7/11 down the street. She was 20 years younger than him and a college drop-out who pursued a far more profound and spiritual calling in life.

 

She was also addicted to DMT.

 

Funny enough, Mico’s disappearance was my first heartbreak. I didn’t know Dad that well. He was rarely home, often hitting up the bar after work for ‘boy time’ before coming home and crashing on the couch; but ‘boy time’ became an almost daily routine, leaving the left side of their bed to grow cold.

 

It felt like Mom gave up a long time ago with him, even before I was born because she didn’t act fazed by it all. Eventually, she ended up sleeping with me in my bed for a while. I think her side of the bed started to feel cold too.

 

Time went on, as it does, and on one fateful dry summer day, Mom and I were met with yet another trying trial.

 

Dad showed up.

 

At around 2 pm, when the sun’s rays peaked nosily through the window shades and cicadas buzzed eagerly on tree leaves and branches, the doorbell rang. I remember feeling a tinge of hope at the prospect of Mico turning up, but I was severely disappointed when I heard Mom whisper-yelling to a random guy at the front door. I paused my gameplay on our old Nintendo 64 and curiously peeked out of the playroom; it gave the perfect view of the front door.

 

Turns out it was Dad, and he wasn’t alone. Resting patiently in his arms was a small pureblooded German Shepard. No older than 10 weeks, the young pup had a rather awkward set of big, floppy ears folded strangely on top of each other. The puppy was cute and all, but the second I saw dad waving excitedly and beckoning me towards him while pointing at the little thing, I slammed the door shut. I barely knew dad, so he immediately came off as a stranger to me. That and the dog irked me.

 

He wasn’t Mico.

 

Next thing I knew it, Mom was yelling at him to get out when he abruptly opened the playroom door and urged me to come to him. I started crying. I didn’t like how he came into my favorite room uninvited or how he ignored Mom. I also didn’t like that dog.

 

Mom had to explain it at a later time, but Dad was ultimately trying to get our family back together. He claimed to have left the DMT-addict and thought bringing in a new puppy with a cleaned-up lifestyle would win us over.

 

Boy, was he wrong.

 

Mom and I rejected him almost immediately. He got really angry, but not the kind you can see very well. His eyes went glassy and hard like they were fake, and his jaw squared up from clenching his teeth too hard. We thought he would accept our rejection and leave as if he was such a simple man.

 

But boy, were _we_ wrong.

 

He grabbed the German Shepherd by the neck and held him in the air, screaming, “Then what the fuck was this for? Do you know how much these pure breeds cost?” He proceeded to yell about how everything he did to get us back together was a waste of time and money and threw him on the ground. The high-pitched yelp ripped from the pup echoed in my skull and made my heart throb in my ears with low, dull thumps.

 

I barely remember what happened after that. All of the anger I held towards the dog washed away as I began sobbing and tucked him in my little arms. He fit there nice and snug. I ran into the closet and proceeded to bawl until my eyes were red and puffy, the pup’s ardent licks to my tears lulling me to a dreamless sleep.

 

Mom ended up socking him in the face _and_ balls before calling the police. We kept the dog, put a restraining order against him, and charged with animal cruelty, harassment, and trespassing. A lawyer, multiple precautionary therapy sessions, and a handful of court orders later and he became practically nonexistent in our lives.

 

A few days later, we named the pup Damon. Mom was into Greek mythology and found a neat little book at the re-sale bookshop nearby that listed out hundreds of Greek mythology figures and what they represented. I was putting a puzzle together when I heard the words:

 

“Risked his life to stand for his friend”

 

I ended up really liking the meaning and the little pup laying directly across from me, watching intently as I put together a puzzle of my favorite cartoon, thus became known as Damon: our trusty and much-loved guardian of the family.

 

-

 

 

 The saying, ‘life works in mysterious ways’, has always felt strange to me.

 

Why does life work in enigmatic and cryptic ways that cannot be deciphered and explained? Shouldn’t life work in our favor as we walk the designated paths bestowed upon us?

 

As I grew older- and somewhat wiser- and encountered more and more situations that continued to threaten the plane of existence I sought to preserve, I finally began to realize that life is an uncontrollable storm of shit that acts however it pleases.

 

High-powered winds cut and rip us apart, mighty tides leave us chin-deep in water, and menacing quakes rattle our bones and toss us around like dolls. It used to get to me. It made me really angry and confused and bitter; but I saw how facing these shit-stain situations ultimately made me stronger and more resilient in the ‘real world’, which is a monstrosity in itself.

 

Today, after what feels like an eternity, I can finally appreciate the moment Mico disappeared. Yes, the loss of my best friend broke my little seven-year-old heart in two, but if he hadn’t up and left, we wouldn’t have had closure with Dad, I wouldn’t have gotten Damon- the dog who healed my wounds with patience and loyalty- and Mom and I wouldn’t be the strong women we are today. Apparently, Mom was really depressed for years; but being so small, the idea that such a draining sadness existed was an anomaly to me. It wasn’t until she finally closed the door on Dad that she began to mend the dusty, broken pieces of her heart.

 

I find myself thanking Mico, Damon, and Mom almost every day for the life I lead. I’ve made stupid decisions before, but their influences have guided me to the right answers time and time again.

 

Except maybe this time.

 

Fucking hell, what am I doing?

 

For some daft and inexcusable reason, I found myself standing, mid-knock, in front of a stranger’s apartment to return their phone. Being that it is an absurdly arid August afternoon, the forgiving part of my conscious tried to blame my decision-making on the heat. However, on top of that, I trekked 20 minutes out of my way because a stranger through a chatroom app, who could quite literally be waiting on the other side of the door with a knife, asked me to.

 

The apartment owners phone dings.

 

**Unknown** : is everything ok?

 

It takes everything in me to not text a paragraph of insults.

 

**MC** : yeah, bout to knock

 

One knock, two knocks, three knocks. The more I wait, the more jittery my insides feel. A few minutes pass before I text Unknown back.

**MC** : no one’s home. i’ll just put it in a baggie or something on the handle

 

**Unknown** : No!!

 

**Unknown** : I mean... someone could steal it, right?

 

**Unknown** : Isn’t there a passcode?

 

**Unknown** : I’ll give it to you

 

**Unknown** : 9919#

 

I can feel Mom’s wrath raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

 

“What am I doing, what am I doing, what am I doing,” I mutter nonsensically as clammy fingers punch in the apartment’s passcode. The click signaling its success feels thunderous in the seemingly desolate apartment building.

 

**Unknown** : Did it work? You can drop it off on a table.

 

‘Pushy, are we?’

 

My foot stills in the doorway.

 

**MC** : this feels wrong, tbh

 

**Unknown** : Trust me, you just need to drop it off!

 

A rumbling guffaw nearly chokes me on its way up. How do you trust someone you’ve just met 30 minutes ago on a messaging app?

 

“I’m just gonna run in there, throw the phone on that coffee table, then scram,” I whisper encouragingly under my breath, taking note of the short, anxious breaths crawling futilely up my throat.

 

Right as I bolt in, luck graces me with its presence as I miss the raised step in the entrance and fall flat on my face. For a second, I contemplate laying there in defeat, but a piercing alarm rings from the phone in my hand, followed by a series of colorful stripes and strange coding moving down the screen in a frenzied mess-

 

A chatroom loads.

 

**Yoosung** **★** **:** Failed my midterms fml T_T

**707** : Cuz u played LOLOL all night lol.

 

**Jumin Han** :  If you want to work for our company, you should take care of your GPA.

 

‘Hold on…’

 

Scrambling up from my stomach, I stand with noodle-legs in the entryway, staring wide-eyed with furrowed brows at the bright, active screen.

 

**ZEN** : Lame. It’s nepotism.

 

**Jumin Han** : It’s called recruitment actually.

 

**ZEN** : It’s giving a free pass instead of actually training the worker.

 

The Unknown person unmistakably vanished from the screen, replaced with five new strangers who are talking animatedly about their lives with each other. They appear close due to the comfortable bickering ensuing in the messenger, but that’s not the issue. The issue is the fact that upon entering the apartment, this strange Unknown person suddenly disappeared, after incessant persistence for me to return the damn phone, and now said phone is popping off with an oblivious group of people in the same messenger.

 

I want to run far away from this place, but something stops me. Who are these people? What if this Unknown person is some diabolical mastermind preying on these people (and now me, apparently)? The tug-of-war between saving myself and helping potentially endangered victims weakens my stomach and threatens the return of this morning’s breakfast on the apartment floor.

 

“Let me just… sit down and think,” I mutter weakly as I take a seat in the small loveseat of the apartment.

 

Processing my surroundings, I find that the apartment is actually a studio, equipped with a desk fit for a dedicated worker, a full-sized bed pressed snugly against the far-left corner, a bathroom, wardrobe space, and a small living space with a loveseat and coffee table nestled directly in front. The set-up displays a modest yet sleek personality, due to its minimalistic aesthetic. Although it appears nice, I can’t help but feel unsettled by it all. Whoever that Unknown person is could either be another innocent bystander or a part of something far more sinister.

 

Or this is all a misunderstanding and I can just leave the phone and run home.

 

‘Ugh, I can’t shake the feeling that something is up though…’

 

Distracted by the conflict warring in my conscious, I’m suddenly jolted back to the present at the relentless dings emitting from the phone beside me.

 

**Yoosung** ★: Sevnee do somethign!!

 

**ZEN** : Hey, typos. -_-;;

 

**707** : Wait a sec. I’m searching.

 

**Jumin Han** : Who are you? Reveal yourself. Hey, Assistant Kang.

 

They’re talking about me. My mind shuts down as panic sears my veins. Should I say something? Or should I run? I swipe the screen to read their past messages; they’ve discovered me in the chatroom.

 

‘Wait… why is my name on here? Why am I in the chatroom?’

 

This cannot be purely coincidental. If my stomach could drop any further than it has, it just did. I can barely read the text on the screen from buzzing so much, my body trembling as if I was caught in a snowstorm.

 

‘I need to say something, anything,’ I urge myself mentally, but my body appears to be in disagreement because I can’t move an inch.

 

The messenger continues to explode with questions.

 

**ZEN** : Maybe someone downloaded the app on two phones?

 

**707** : Maybe?

 

**Jumin Han** : Who downloaded it twice?

 

**Yoosung** **★:** Not me!

 

My fingertips feel cold against the glass screen, but they’re finally moving.

 

**MC** : hi

 

I couldn’t text much more.

 

**Yoosung** ★: Gahhhh it’s talking!!

 

I chuckle dryly. It sounds like they think I’m a virus or bot. I try to intervene the swarm of messages, but I feel so sick that I have to hold my head up with one hand, elbow propped against my shaking knee.

 

Somehow, the guy named 707 digs around and discovers my location through the IP address on the phone, otherwise known as Rika’s apartment. Knowing I’ve been led to a classified apartment where none of the members of the messenger know its whereabouts, save for 707, unsettles me to my core. Hundreds of questions continue their onslaught against my brain and all I can hope for is a long nap from such wild, shitty day at the end of this.

 

Following short-lived introductions, overwhelming (though rightfully so) suspicions, and a moment of panic at the theory of a hacker behind my arrival, the members proposed an invitation to their organization, RFA, a fundraising group focusing on charity work. Although I’ve always appreciated charity-work and partook whenever I could, it felt too rushed. I haven’t even begun to swallow a third of the situation I was in, let alone decide to join some classified organization with top-tier members.

 

**MC** : I will think about it. I think I want to sleep on it first

 

707’s next words really push at the bile sloshing around in my stomach.

 

**707** : U probably want to sleep in ur own bed tonight right...? >.<

 

**707** : I know it sucks but u need to stay there for now. It’s too dangerous w/ the hacker out there right now

 

**MC** : like I cant cant or you advise against it cant

 

**707** : …………... u sly minx

 

**707** : cant cant!!!

 

**707** : nope nada no nah cant!!!!!!!

 

**707** : God Seven, protector of kitties and cute girls named MC, promises to catch the hacker and let u go home safe!!!

 

If I didn’t feel so sick, I would’ve laughed loudly at that.

 

**MC** : ok god seven… your newest disciple will heed your decree

 

**707** : !!!!

 

**707** : newest disciple????

 

**707** : I…am honored. God Seven shall not disappoint!!!

 

**707** : I gotta go, wish me luck! 7-0-7 over-and-out

 

**707** : Whoosh~

 

_707 exited the chatroom._

707’s weird yet incredibly endearing behavior brought the first smile to my lips in what felt like forever. Feeling slightly relieved, I bid the other members goodnight and decided that a long, hot shower would sooth some of my aching nerves. My head won’t stop throbbing and buzzing and all I can wish is for a morsel of sleep tonight. But spontaneously (and unwillingly) staying in a deceased stranger’s apartment because a hacker might be out for some organization I’ve never heard of isn’t necessarily the best way to lull me to sleep.

 

As I idly meander the apartment while the shower grows nice and steamy, I look out the small window placed directly behind the bed and find an orange and pink haze spilling through the blinds. For the first time this evening, I register my senses, taking note of the sounds, smells, and sights around me. My frantic heart has finally slowed to a steady pulse, but the fear of what’s to come still lingers in the cracks. As I shuffle towards the bathroom, steam pooling from under the door, an all-too-familiar sound of humming cicadas fills the silent room and I can’t help but snort sarcastically.

 

I really hate summer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: After some brainstorming, I wanted to change things up and extend the 11 days. I'm not sure of the exact time period this story will cover, but I'm thinking at least a couple of months. I want to give it a more... realistic spin. So, that means I'll have to add some new elements to fluff things up. I'm not necessarily planning anything right now, just allowing myself to relax and write whatever comes to mind. I usually come up with my best (and sometimes cruelest;;) ideas that way. Thank you for tuning in!! ^^

The past five days in Rika’s apartment were some of the longest days of my life, but the first two days were absolute hell. My anxiety thrived eagerly on the situation and in the night when sleep was welcome, its greedy, shapeless form came out of the woodwork like the boogieman himself. My lack of medicine proved useless for the cause, and although I felt confident in a momentary break for a few days, the safety net of actively taking it would’ve soothed at least some of my worries.

But on top of that, I had to request off from work, which was one of the most nerve-wracking situations in itself. As a foreign assistant teacher in the Korean education system, heavy scrutiny is placed on you to not fuck up because you just don’t want to be that foreigner and earn your country a bad (or worse, in some cases) reputation in another country.

Sugar-coating it, my boss is an old, conservative Korean man who believes strongly in upholding traditional values when it comes to education. Kids spend hours upon hours in school, using the potential time for running around, socializing, or enjoying creative outlets by shoving their noses in books and writing notes until their hands grow numb and sore. I always try to shower the kids with encouragement and assistance whenever possible, and even persuaded my boss to let me host social events to alleviate some of the stress the kids carried on their backs like rocks. A lot of them admitted how they looked forward to school just so they could see me, and it simultaneously swelled my heart and cracked it.

Teachers hold a high regard in Korean society, something I appreciate with gusto, but the very regard ended up punching me in the gut as I profusely apologized to my disappointed boss over the phone for twenty minutes. He stated he already had a replacement lined up if I didn’t return soon and the thought of letting those kids down nearly brought me to my knees.

I felt like I was going mad in only two days, but it wasn’t until Seven heard me choking on my sobs at 2 am through the CCTV when he let me return home to retrieve my things and breathe some fresh air. His sudden call jolted me to my senses as I scrambled around the bed to find my phone, only to realize that he was calling the messenger phone. When I finally answered, he let out a pained groan, talking a thousand words-per-minute about how worried he was to hear my cries.

“Why didn’t you tell me keeping you there made you feel like that?!” he nearly yelled, voice cracking with frenzy.

I wiped my wet, swollen eyes with the sleeve of my sweater. “It’s not a big deal, Seven; but I’m sorry-”

“What do you mean it isn’t a big deal? Don’t lower yourself to such a worthless plane of existence,” he scolded lightly, “It looks like the hacker is dormant right now but I’ll be tracking you in case something happens, okay?”

“Ahm… tracking me?” My eyes shift around in disbelief before a grin brightens my face. “Oh, God Seven, thank you for watching over your devoted believer! I will pray in your name tonight.”

A strangled cough wheezed through the receiver. “Gah! Mmm- um, y-yes my faithful disciple, as you should- oh, god,” he whines under his breath, but I heard every word.

I giggled at his fluster. “You’re a cutie, Seven.”

“GAH- stop it! I mean… I know I am. N-no need to remind me, hahaha! You should, um… get ready to go. I’ll set the CCTV up for the way to your house. Please don’t take any detours, just go the direct way I text you to go, okay?”

“Aye, captain!” I salute through the phone, earning a fascinated ‘Oooh’ from the animated redhead.

“At ease, cadet! Captain 707 will protect you- scout’s honor!”

I laughed loudly. “Alright Captain of the Boy Scout’s, I’ll text you when I’m there. Bye!”

“Wait! Ah… text me while you walk. It will make your worried-sick Captain feel better,” he says with a motherly tone.

“Yes, ma’am- I mean Captain!”

Talking with Seven is always a treat. His near-fluency in English (as well as at least 17 other languages) allows me to unwind in my native tongue and naturally express how I feel without having to use the limited Korean I know. Our humor aligns perfectly with each other, mostly consisting of strange sounds, excessive role-playing, and memes- lots of memes. I look forward to our conversations the most.

But that doesn’t mean that the other members haven’t grown onto me too. Yoosung can get a bit irksome at times with his incessant talk of Rika, but most of the time I see him as a kid-brother, mostly due to his strong sense of innocence. I worry about him, though; it appears he uses gaming as a numbing agent for his pain from Rika’s death, without actually resolving his conflictions head-on. If I ever get close enough to him, I hope we can have a heart-to-heart about it, but it’s too premature to do anything about it now.

Zen is… well, Zen, frankly putting it. I honestly really like him; he’s incredibly strong in his compassion and understanding of others, which not only benefits his acting but makes him a well-rounded person. Not to mention, he’s attractive as hell, but it’s relieving to know he’s much more than a pretty face. His ambitions prove firm as he’s always looking for work, never giving up when faced with rejection- an unfortunate and inevitable occurrence in his line of work. Both possessing an appreciation for theatre, Zen and I find ourselves frequently gushing over American Broadway. He admitted to holding something akin to an obsession with it.

On the other hand, both Jaehee and Jumin remain resilient in their skepticism. Although it doesn’t necessarily offend me, I often feel uncomfortable in the chatroom with them because they bring it up in nearly every conversation- Jaehee more so than her boss. The chief secretary of C&R International is ruthless when it comes to my identity and doesn’t bother refraining herself from dragging my ass to hell and back with her intense cynicism.

Though I need to frequently recover myself from her monotonous, unbridled savageness, I find her dedication to RFA’s safety respectable. That, and her dedication to her job, which seems to wear her down literally every day. She’s admitted more than once how unfulfilling she finds it as Jumin often makes requests falling outside of the job description- like taking care of his cat, Elizabeth the Third. Her unhappiness within Jumin’s company worries me to pieces sometimes. I hope she’ll pursue her passion one day instead of drowning herself in coffee, paperwork, and cat hair.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike Jumin either, even as a boss. But I do believe Jaehee picked the wrong job. Jumin is… strange, but endearing in his own little way. He genuinely cares for those in the RFA and shows me nothing less than respect, besides the occasional caution. I think I’m starting to win him over little by little, though. He vaguely mentioned how he enjoys our conversations in a recent phone call, so… that’s progress. And honestly, let’s face it- I think the guy’s jokes are hilarious. The delivery is so blunt and calculated; and picturing a silver-spoon fed, CEO-in-line guy like Jumin Han dishing them out as if he’s a world-class comedian makes me scream-laugh half of the time.

It freaks Seven out.

-

After cooking up some kimchi fried rice with a couple of pre-made side dishes, I settle onto the loveseat and open up the messenger.

_MC enters the chatroom_

**ZEN** : Hi honey~

**Yoosung★** : MC! Hey!

**Jaehee** : Hello, MC.

A small smile lifts the apples of my cheeks and reaches my eyes.

**MC** : hiii everyone~

**Jaehee Kang** : MC, please tell Yoosung to keep his gaming habits in check.

**ZEN** : Yeah! The boy doesn’t even sleep anymore because he stays up gaming all night!

**Yoosung★** : Hey T-T

**Yoosung★** : Stop ganging up on me!

**Yoosung★** : You stay up late too Zen… You called yourself a “night owl” right??

**ZEN** : That’s different.

**ZEN** : I have a healthy lifestyle so it automatically cancels out being a night owl.

**ZEN** : ^^

**Yoosung★** : That’s not fair!!! I’m active…

**Jaehee Kang** : Actively playing games.

**Yoosung★** : Jaehee T-T

**Yoosung★** : MC help me!!! T-T

I roll my eyes at his plea, laughing lightly. Then an idea strikes me.

**MC** : idk yoosung…you ever heard of

**MC** : **Gamer’s Hand Disease?**

_707 enters the chatroom_

**707** : Ooooh???

**707** : What’s this???

**707** : Did someone say…

**707** : Gamer’s Hand Disease?

**Yoosung★** : Wait WHAT

**Yoosung★** : What is that?!?!

**ZEN** : Guys not again…;;

**Jaehee Kang** : I’m leaving. I will take no part in this foolishness.

Loud snorts fill the room as butterflies bubble inside my stomach. I feel Seven laughing with me through the CCTV and a dorky grin spreads across my face.

**707** : This is no foolishness!!

**707** : This is

**707** : A THREAT

**707** : TO YOOSUNG’S LIFE

**Yoosung★** : Please explain nwoe I;ms cared!!!!!!

**ZEN** : You realize this is the same as the milk thing right Yoosung?;;

**MC** : what milk thing

**MC** : STOP DISTRACTING HIM FROM THE REAL PROBLEM

**MC** : **Gamer’s Hand Disease**

**707** : Right!!!

**707** : **Gamer’s Hand Disease™**

**ZEN** : Why is there suddenly a trademark symbol? >>;;

**MC** : …

**MC** : GOD SEVEN

**707** : YES MY DEVOTED FOLLOWER

**MC** : baiL ME OUT IF I'M CAUGHT FOR COpyrIGHT

**707** : Disciple, rest assured…

**707** : I will protect u no matter what~

**707** : No copper will get u alive!!!!!!

Seven and I spend the next hour convincing Yoosung that he may have contracted Gamer’s Hand Disease, a complete bullshit of a joke I made on a whim where the more you game, the more your hands degenerate until they eventually fall off. I have no idea how, but Seven managed to create not only a Wikipedia page but a few other websites with “accredited doctor diagnoses”. He even went as far as to plug-in pictures of the ‘disease’ that will generate when you search the term- all in less than an hour.

Giggling to myself, I make my way to the meticulously organized desk across the room, nose shoved in the phone, and slump into the plush cerulean chair, its aging wheels squeaking in protest. I check the party coordinator email-box Seven set up for me and find five new emails from potential guests, courtesy of the other members.

To the right of the computer, something catches my eye. Two pictures set side-by-side in one gold-rimmed frame hide behind the reflection of the bright lamp nearby. I gingerly wipe off some of the dust collected on the glass and tip the frame towards me. My eyes widen in surprise. They’re pictures of what looks like an old RFA party; one group photo of all of the members and one photo of solely V and Rika.

A small smile dances on my lips at seeing how happy they look, the accomplishment swelled in their hearts evident in their bright eyes.

‘They look like a family,’ I muse silently, fingertips brushing across the pristine glass.

V’s warm eyes especially draw me in and I can’t help but frown at the recent turn-of-events. The only time I’ve really spoken with V was when I first arrived in the chatroom; but even then, there wasn’t much I could say at the time. The mint-eyed leader of RFA feels like an enigma to me. I can’t really wrap my mind around him. His consistent absence within the messenger only further proves that, too.

But what’s got me picking at my brain is how Yoosung’s mood turns sour every time V is mentioned while everyone else remains steadfast with their trust in him. I understand why Yoosung would feel the way he does but… I can’t help but feel uneasy about Rika and V. Whenever I talk with V, I sense an overwhelming feeling of sadness seeping through the chatroom and it throws me off. With so many emotions and secrets and differing sides, I have no idea what to believe or how to feel. It’s times like those where my title as an outsider sits on my head like a flashing Las Vegas sign and I have no choice but to shut my mouth.

Though sometimes I get frustrated because I rarely have the chance to get answers to the million and one questions weighing my conscious down, and truth be told; they’re not just about the hacker or party. I have a strange feeling of concern for V, but I suppose that’s just the empathy-sodden radar of mine going off when I sense the remotest hint of suffering. For some reason, I think I can save or help everyone I try to- even after failing a few times before. It’s something I really need to work on, or else I might find myself drowning in a pool of regret.

An alert from the messenger pulls me from the thick fog of my thoughts.

**V** : Hello?

‘Oh shit’

_MC enters the chatroom_

**MC** : v, hi!

**V** : Oh hello, MC.

**V** : Comfortable at the apartment?

**V** : I hope you’re not feeling overwhelmed with everything…

**MC** : no, i’m good! don’t worry about me.

**MC** : i’ve got it all under control, captain!!

**V** : Hahaha, Captain, huh? ^^

**V** : Luciel told me about what happened earlier…

**V** : I’m so sorry for putting you in this situation

**V** : but I hope you understand that it’s for your safety

**V** : I couldn’t ever forgive myself if something happened to an innocent victim caught in this mess

My heart feels weak at his words. Yoosung’s bitter feelings and the blooming respect warming my chest makes my head spin. I just want to understand everything.

**MC** : i really appreciate it, v. tbh I’m nervous about the hacker so I understand why I have to do this

**MC** : this is just a very… taxing and confusing situation

**MC** : and it freaked me out at first

**MC** : but I’m okay now!! I promise

**MC** : thank you for your concerns ^^

**MC** : let’s make this party a great one!

**V** : Your courage and understanding amaze me, MC.

**V** : Although you arrived in one of the worst possible ways…

**V** : I am thankful you joined us as a member of the RFA.

My heart really will burst if he keeps this up. How can Yoosung suspect someone with such genuine kindness? I shake my head. I can’t choose sides, but I can’t ignore it either.

**MC** : no, thank you, v. you’ve been really kind to me and I appreciate that

**MC** : especially in such difficult situation for everyone

**V** : Ahh I’m afraid you give me too much credit…^^;;

**V** : There is a lot I need to work on as a person and leader

**V** : But thank you for seeing the good in me…

**V** : MC.

V left shortly after; something about losing connection because of his location. Apparently, he went out of the country again for god knows what. Jumin told me he’s gone on these trips since Rika passed- traveling wherever and whenever he likes and cuts himself off from others, including the RFA, for long periods of time. He blames it on the desolate locations, which evidently lack signals, but doesn’t bother to relay exactly where he is.

The impression I’ve contrived from his behavior is that V… is a very lost and empty man. He doesn’t seem to know his own worth either since he always deflects compliments about himself and avoids taking proper care of his mental health. I cannot be sure of V, an odd and cryptic man of his own world, but the signs feel familiar to me.

Mom rendered a similar aura when she was depressed. I was very young at the time, but my senses were strong and always picked up on changes in Mom’s mood and behavior. It didn’t take her long to realize how sensitive I was to change, but approaching her keenly attentive child about something so complex was a challenge that took much longer than she would’ve liked.

With Dad off breaking her heart every night and Grandma in a senior home with dementia destroying the library of her mind, she didn’t have many close ones to unravel her cuts and bruises with. There’s Laura, one of her best friends, who she’s known since elementary school; but she lives on the opposite side of the country as a member of the UN, making phone calls a pain in the ass most times. They make do, though, and Mom also has another best friend who lives a few cities away named Raquel, a bakery-owner, and mother of five. She makes really good pies.

As I got older and Mom allowed me to help mend the broken pieces of her mind and heart, I was finally able to put a name to a feeling. I became hyper-aware of depression and researched heavily on whatever I could get my hands on through Google, just so I could help Mom. I’ve been told that I have a good sense of judgment when it comes to people, which may factor into my experience with Mom.

Emotions exist as the foundation in which feelings build upon. I’ve learned that the foundation doesn’t need to be cracked and crumbling for feelings to suffer. We experience many things in our lives that can make for the best experiences or the worst; but the danger lies in the bad ones, where a single experience can destroy one’s entire kingdom and leave them with nothing when they thought they had everything.

V, who appears so wholesome and kind, could have faced these kinds of nightmares that haunt him today. I haven’t known him for long, nor do I understand much about him, but I’d like to believe in my instincts. As a strong enforcer of self-love myself, it breaks my heart catching the signs of a loss of identity and self-appreciation, so if I can, I want to help him.

But his cause may result in casualties, and I’m afraid to lose myself too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm glad I finally got this out. ^^

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it, thanks for reading! (:


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